


How to Stand

by Tibbins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s13e21 Beat the Devil, Gen, Grieving Castiel, Grieving Dean Winchester, M/M, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 16:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14549091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tibbins/pseuds/Tibbins
Summary: Spoilers for 13x21. A missing scene from the walk back to the camp in which Dean tries to process his grief. Implied Destiel.





	How to Stand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [That_loser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_loser/gifts).



> 13x21 broke me, so I had to write something angsty and painful to go with it.
> 
> Here is that thing.
> 
> Dedicated to that_loser because she's amazing and I actually like this piece enough to be worthy of a dedication.

 

"Where's Sam?"

The question was innocent, expected, but Dean had no answer. Where  _was_  Sam? Sam was behind his eyelids, Sam was in the bellies of feral vampires, Sam was trying to claw a way out of his throat, Sam was motionless and pale in some filthy tunnel that smelled of rotting meat and bile. Sam was the only part of him that mattered, that meant anything. Sam was… he was…

Dean's jaw worked uselessly and a tear spilled over as he found himself unable to form the words. He could only watch, helpless, as Mary's face changed from relieved and happy to  _knowing_. Dean wanted to spare her that, he should have been able to spare her that. Mary pulled him into another hug but he couldn't bring himself to lift his arms. His mother was here, she was safe, she was unharmed; it was what he'd been aiming for, what he'd wanted for months but watching in his mind's eye as his brother was brought to his knees, as his throat was opened, as he choked out Dean's name through a spray of blood, as he looked for his big brother to save him, Dean was almost positive that it wasn't worth it.

He stood stiffly in Mary's arms until she pulled back, searching his expression for something she clearly didn't find because her face twisted painfully as she turned away and started walking back the way she had come, gesturing to the others to follow. Dean moved forward woodenly, stumbling on suddenly shaky legs. Their goal had been to find Mary and now they had done that, he had nothing driving him forward. A heavy warmth landed on his shoulder and he turned his head to see Gabriel of all people, his boyish face pinched and bloodless. Dean shook him off with a snarl and the archangel let his hand fall away.

 

" _Dean, we can't save him."_

 

'We' didn't even enter into it. What Cas had meant to say was 'you', ' _you_  can't save him.' He felt the truth of it pressing into his skull, pulsing behind his eyes. A truth that he had beaten back for years, forcing the opposite to be real instead, but a truth that nonetheless pervaded, time and again, proving itself the most tenacious force in his life.

 

 _You can't save him_.

 

No matter how he tried, no matter what he did, that truth haunted him.

 

" _He's gone."_

 

Dean trudged on, barely looking where his feet landed; hearing Gabriel's step falter, seeing the rigid strength of Mary's back, feeling Cas' heavy gaze on the nape of his neck.

He shouldn't have left the tunnel; he felt the guilt sink into him at the thought. He should never have left the tunnel without Sam, vampires and time limits and rescue mission be damned. It was the rule; the one rule Sam had placed on him.

 

" _If we die, we'll do that together too."_

 

But Cas had convinced him otherwise, reasoned with him in those few moments of denial, of doubt. Cas, solid, and as steady as the tide, staring at him with mirrored pain and such  _understanding_ that he had wavered, he had left his brother to be torn to bloody strips, he had trusted Cas that there was nothing he could do. Anger surged through his blood; a violent, untameable wrath aimed at the angel. His tongue was coated with it, acidic and bitter; he wanted to scream, to fight, to disintegrate. He wanted to rage until the tempest ripped him apart, like Sam had been ripped apart alone and afraid and surrounded by monsters, one of whom he called brother.

Dean's legs buckled and his knees hit the ground a half-second later, the light dusting of leaves cushioning his fall somewhat. He stared at them, their exposed skeletons, plant matter stretching between the bones like webbed skin, it was almost visceral. The girl, Dean couldn't be bothered to recall her name, stopped walking and looked as though she wanted to come over and start spouting useless platitudes about how they had both lost people but it was okay, Gabriel touched her on the shoulder and guided her on with a pointed look to Castiel; she hesitated but followed his lead. It was for the best; she didn't understand, she couldn't possibly understand the greatness of his failure, the sharpness of his grief. There was no way she could know all of the horror and the blood and the fear that he and Sam had been through, that nest of vamps was nothing, it should have been nothing. They'd seen so much scarier, been so much worse. It was baffling how  _ordinary_  this death was, nothing about it was the blaze of glory, for the greater good, saving the world, that he had imagined. They had gotten cornered by vamps, Dean had been pinned, the vamps had got Sam. It could be any sad old hunter's tale, and if that just didn't sting like a bitch.

"Dean?"

Mary was crouched in front of him, eyes scanning him for wounds. Dean couldn't look at her, she had lost the wrong son today. It was supposed to be a rescue, they were supposed to be on their way to collect Jack with loud jokes and joyful reunions and hugs that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Not this.

"We came here for you." Dean said, his voice splintering like tree bark. Mary's concern retreated behind a stoic mask that Dean recognised from the mirror, he could see the guilt and grief in her eyes. It didn't make him feel better or worse, he wasn't sure he was capable of feeling anything anymore. Sam had been his emotional compass, Sam had kept him right. But his words were correct, they had come here for Mary. If Sam hadn't been so desperate to get her back then Dean would have relayed Billie's warning about the house of cards and they might have decided to leave well enough alone, mourned their mother but ultimately moved on. And they wouldn't have come. And Sam wouldn't have bled to death with his brother's name on his lips and betrayal in his eyes.

"Dean, we have to keep moving." Mary said gently, "We're too exposed here, we have to get someplace safe."

Dean snorted but otherwise said nothing. His brain was too busy replaying Sam's death, over and over. And he had walked out of that tunnel, why had he walked out?

"You're stronger than this." She continued, desperation edging her voice now. "We can get through this. Please, Dean."

"Mary," Cas' low rumble approached, Dean could see the hem of his dumbass coat. Mary looked up, confused.

"I don't understand." Mary said, looking to the angel who had left her son for dead. "Why won't he get up?"

"Come on." Gabriel,  _Gabriel_  said, taking her by the elbow and helping her to her feet. "I'll explain the whole sorry thing."

And maybe he could. Hell, he'd known them longer than Cas had. He'd had them sussed since their very first meeting in that college. Maybe he  _could_  explain to Mary why Dean couldn't get up, why he felt like he'd left his legs behind, the limbs that supported him, held him up, kept him going past a reasonable point of endurance; he knew that _he_  didn't have the words. The armed posse Mary had brought kept walking after Cas waved them on and soon they were the only two left.

"We've gotta protect them." Dean said fuzzily, trying to push himself to his feet,

"We'll catch them up."

Instead of helping him up, Cas sat down next to him, folding his legs under himself gracefully. Dean knew if he ever tried that he'd break something important.

"Get away from me." Dean growled, that anger flaring once more. "You let him die!"

Cas flinched like Dean had punched him and Dean's hands curled into fists to do just that.

"He was already dead when they dragged him away, Dean." Cas said. "I saw him, his soul had passed on. Sam wasn't in his body anymore and there were too many-"

"-What the hell kind of angel are you?" Dean spat viciously, "They were  _vampires_ , Cas. We've killed dozens of those things before. Since when could vampires hurt you? You should have torn them all to pieces for so much as touching him and then you should've  _healed_  him. And there's another thing, why weren't you there? You could have just dropped the freaking rocks and you could have  _saved_  him."

"If he had still been alive I could have helped, perhaps." Cas said mournfully. "But I think that I am no longer capable of resurrection. I couldn't heal that man that Jack hurt in Dodge. What would have been the point of tearing through a pack of vampires when I knew I couldn't save Sam? We still had Mary and Jack to find and we didn't have the  _time_."

"Good to know Sam meant so little to you." Dean snapped. The barb striking true and deep. Cas' breathing hitched for a moment.

"If you were anyone else." He said, voice shaking, "I would kill you for that."

Dean lifted his eyes to the angel's face for the first time. The lines on it had deepened, sending shadows flickering oddly across the planes. There was loss in those eyes, a deep, profound loss that made him feel less alone than any false comfort.

"I left him." The confession slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. He pressed his lips together.

"What else could you do?"

"I could've tried to get to him."

"You would have died too."

"Then I should've died too." Dean said quietly, the most obvious thing in the world. He should have followed Sam's wishes, Sam never should have died alone. "You should've let me go after him."

"Would you have had me burn you both?" Cas asked, his own voice strained, "Would you have had Mary mourn both her sons?" 

"I never left him before."

"I know."

"I trusted you."

There were tears in the blue eyes now, or maybe they were his own.

"I know."

Cas reached forward to grip tightly to the jacket over his left shoulder, the first place Cas had ever laid a hand on him; it was grounding, it was grating, it was painful and it was comforting all at once.

"I wish I could save you from this too." Cas whispered raggedly.

Dean swallowed painfully around the ball of grief in his throat. Cas slowly leant forward until their foreheads touched. Dean allowed his tears to fall, allowed himself to dissolve into useless, weak sobs that wrenched at his chest, united in grief with the angel who held him steady with a hand on the nape of his neck, tracing soothing circles with his fingers.

"I don't know what to say." Cas pleaded, "Tell me what to say."

Dean snorted brokenly. Jack had asked that question once, not too long ago, at another moment when Dean had been falling apart and Sam had been the one with the answer.

"You say thank you." Dean said, his voice was so small that he barely heard it, but he knew Cas heard him, Cas always heard him when it mattered. "And you say you're sorry." He choked under the weight of his brother's words but he pushed them out all the same. "You hope he's somewhere better. You say - oh God - you say goodbye." His throat closed over the final word. "But I don't- I don't think I  _can_." He admitted. It was an admission that he would only give to Cas, because only Cas would understand, and only Cas wouldn't judge him for it. "Sammy... What am I without him?"

"You're Dean Winchester. The Righteous Man I pulled from Hell. You're a fearless warrior and a beautiful soul. You're a hunter, and a protector, and a son, and a friend."

"But not a brother." Dean said, his voice leaden. "Not anymore."

"Dean." Cas' voice cracked on his name. "No one can take Sam from you. Not Lucifer, not vampires, not Death herself. You will always be his brother. Nothing can ever change that."

Dean nodded slowly, and the tips of their noses brushed. Dean pulled back slightly.

"How do I stand up?" He sounded pathetic even to his own ears but there was only empathy and an echo of his own pain in the eyes that stared back at him.

"You remember who he was." Cas said softly. "You remember what he taught you, and you live."

Dean nodded, not breaking eye contact, though he did bring up his hand to wipe away the drying tears. Cas did the same.

"And - failing that," Cas continued, standing fluidly and taking Dean by the elbow, "I will help you."

 

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it.
> 
> I felt like we were missing a scene like this from the episode itself (they spent waaaay too much time on forcing chemistry between Gabriel and Rowena) because we go from Dean physically unable to tell Mary that Sam is dead, to Dean being at least a semblance of put-together with the whole 'I'll go get his body.' Which I felt was a really important line because this is Dean acknowledging and accepting that Sam is dead, that he's going back for a body, not his brother and this is super important and wonderful character development but I feel like it wouldn't be quite so straightforward a transition as that.
> 
> Plus, I just wanted to write some angst.
> 
> Let me know what you think ^_^ I think I probably missed out a few important aspects that I wanted to include but I wasn't sure how. Feedback is always appreciated and adored.
> 
> Love Tibbins xx


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